


Of Rain And Fruit And Scarecrows

by BridgeToTheSky



Series: For Lonely Skin [Kakashi Hatake] [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Backstory to how Reader and Kakashi met ~, Dreams, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 09:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5370119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BridgeToTheSky/pseuds/BridgeToTheSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day, on one of the brightest evenings in spring, you had a dream.</p><p>You would meet a scarecrow while carrying a basket of fruits during heavy rain, and you would fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Rain And Fruit And Scarecrows

You were an … odd woman; you had strings of superstitions you lived by, believed in weird things, claimed to know people you had never met and, when you had dreams, you believed them.

 

You had dreams you believed to be real, and you collected fruit during the rain.

 

What they didn’t know was that the former and the latter were connected.

 

One day, on one of the brightest evenings in spring, you had a dream.

 

You would meet a scarecrow while carrying a basket of fruits during heavy rain, and you would fall in love.

 

It wasn’t said explicitly in the dream — because whatever _was_ said blatantly in dreams? — it was an impression, a knowledge that was innate and without question, such was the way of dreams to know things and be aware of them without truly understanding how.

 

You were going to marry a scarecrow … huh. You had no objections; maybe he would be nice?

 

And that was the beginning of everything; every rainy day from there on out, spread out by weeks and months, you would go to the forest clearing near your home and begin to pick the fruits from the trees.

 

It was the most bizarre thing for passerby. They would frequently ask you if you needed help, if you were lost or had need of a ride somewhere with the deepest looks of concern contorting their faces, but you waved them off entirely, as though you weren’t entirely soaked with rain, and went on with your business.

 

You kept going, rainy day after rainy day, hoping that that day would be the day, hoping you’d finally meet and the dream would come to fruition.

 

And then? On the fifteenth visit, you did.

 

***

 

You pouted; this was a bad sign.

 

You could find no ripe fruit. Thus far, all squashy and unhealthy, soft to the touch, darkened and dented.

 

A foul omen. It made your heart ache, and you let yet another disappointment of an apple fall away from your palm and onto the ground with a harsh thud.

 

The rain assaulted you with a new fierceness, the constant drizzle nearly deafening in your ears, but you hardly cared; the sky needed a good cry, and it would have been rude to complain about it.

 

Maybe you had been wrong? Perhaps it had just been a dream? You had drunk quite a lot hours prior with your sisters, anyway, and maybe … maybe it was time to —

 

“Excuse me”

 

A voice. Tentative, soft, masculine.

 

And behind you.

 

Rays of light broke free from the clouds and you felt the heat of them against your back, lightening the clearing.

 

You turned slowly and saw, across from the line of sunlight, was a man.

 

For the first few seconds, you thought he truly was a scarecrow … just a very elaborate one. One you had miraculously missed. He was right at home, midst a field of flowers and wheat and scattered trees.

 

But he wasn’t. He was, unmistakably, a man.

 

Spiky white hair surrounded his head while he was face obscured by a dark mask, save for one eye that was on you, alert and slightly wide.

 

“Hm?” he said, as though you hadn’t heard him against the incessant rain. “Miss, are you all right?”

 

A shinobi …

 

He was certainly the most peculiar looking shinobi you had ever seen, and you certainly couldn’t help tilting your head at the peculiarity of him, but you knew you would have to say something soon, in hopes of not looking entirely insane.

 

“Oh, me?” You said, blinking. “Oh, I’m — fine, of course, just fine.”

 

The scarecrow man did not look convinced — amazing what one could convey with just an _eye_ — and for good reason. You watched as his eye trailed to your basket. “Collecting fruit?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“… _Now?_ ”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Why not?”

 

The scarecrow man leaned back a little, and, to your surprised, chuckled a bit. “Well, you got me there.” He reached a hand behind his neck and continued playfully with, “And here I was thinking that the rain would force one to rework their schedule.”

 

A couple more of his chuckles racked the air before his eye opened to see your hurt expression.

 

“You’re mocking me,” You said.

 

Scarecrow sobered up quickly. “What? No, I didn’t mean it like that, I —”

 

“If it’s going to be like that,” You said, hooking the basket under your arm and beginning to walk away, “you don’t get any.”

 

“Miss,” said Scarecrow after your third step. “Please. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

 

You turned back to him. You could see that he would tower over you if he came closer, and when he did, counting your silence as acceptance, you found this to be true; you only came up to his chest.

 

“You’re soaking wet,” he said. “Please, let me redeem myself; let me take you home.”

 

His arm came around to you, and that’s when it happened — the impression; it overwhelmed and calmed you all at once, filling you with images of his soul, a person you had just met and now suddenly understood in a way no one else would. A sadness that lurked that you now understood the severity of but not the cause. It was intimate, too intimate, this involuntary soul-touch. And, from somewhere, you knew not where, a hum of wind chimes graced the air and you pulled away.

 

Scarecrow man pulled away also, not wanting to startle you.

 

“I’m sorry,” You said softly. “I’m just … yes, you’re right, I really do need to get home now. Want an apple?”

 

He tilted his head at this, eye playful. “I thought I wasn’t allowed.”

 

You shrugged. If soul-touch did anything, it told you who to trust and who not to, and you suddenly wanted to melt into this man.

 

“Well,” he said, reaching for an apple. “Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome,” You muttered, and resisted the urge to entangle your hand with his.

 

***

 

Later, when you did find out his name to be Kakashi Hatake, it made you lose yourself in giggles.

 

Kakashi.

 

Scarecrow.

 

Dreams really weren’t explicit. _Ever._

**Author's Note:**

> So, as you can see, Reader is a little ... interesting. Luna Lovegood-ish~ I wanted to do something different.
> 
> I really couldn't find a way to end this one in a way I wanted. But I'm starting to like the vagueness of it all ...


End file.
